


Just Like This

by genee



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-24
Updated: 2004-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>So pretty, even when they sleep</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like This

It's a big suite, plenty of room to spread out, but they're all together anyway, almost all, Justin and Joey zoning out in front of the tv while Chris flips through some magazine, making random comments and scribbling in the margins. JC just watches for a minute, soaking them in, and then he tugs on Chris's sleeve, tilting his head toward the door. "Come with me," he says, softly, and when Chris scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, JC leans a little closer, warm breath shivering in Chris's ear. "You won't be sorry, man. C'mon."

Chris goes.

JC presses a finger to his lips as he opens one of the bedroom doors, and Chris tenses as he follows JC inside. He doesn't know what he expected, but it's just Lance sleeping, his face turned toward the window, sunset colors seeping through tinted glass. JC pauses, just pauses, the door snicking closed behind them, and then his arm snakes around Chris's waist, and Chris feels JC's breath on his skin again, too warm and very, very close. "The hell, C?" Chris whispers. "This is the big deal? Lance, sleeping?"

JC nods, curling his fingers over Chris's hip. "He's so pretty, Chris."

JC licks his lips, pink tongue and wet heat and Chris thinks, yes, pretty.

"Look at him," JC says, and Chris blinks, tries to focus his attention where JC asked, but it's just Lance, and Lance is maybe a little boring even when he's awake. "He works so hard, Chris."

 

"Um, yeah, we all work hard, C. It's, like, our trademark, whatever. And dude, isn't this your room?"

"Well, yeah. It's closer, and like, more relaxing, and I just? Sometimes he's so far away, Chris. He's always working, even when he sleeps," JC says, moving further into the room, his fingers trailing over Chris's arm. "See?" JC asks, and Chris looks again, looks at the shadows under Lance's eyes, at the way his hand twitches all curled up by his pillow, looks at the way JC runs his knuckles over the curve of Lance's throat.

Lance stirs, twists in his sleep, and JC lounges on the bed, his fingers brushing Lance's cheek. JC presses a kiss on Lance's shoulder and murmurs something soothing, something Chris can't quite hear, and Chris whispers, "C? What? No."

JC reaches for him, though, and Chris goes, he can't help it, it's like JC has his own gravity or something. Chris thinks that's what it is, what it must be, because JC's kissing him, soft, soft, soft, drawing him closer, pulling him in. Chris flushes, warm lips and soft words and he's all pliant and hazy, his body moving under JC's hands. Before he knows it, he's between Lance and JC, his back to JC's chest and Lance laid out before him, pale skin and blue flannel and JC's voice behind him, his fingers ghosting over Lance's arm, his chest, whispering, "See, right here, how strong he is? Mmm, so pretty, Chris. Touch."

Chris glances at Lance's face, unsure. Lance's lips are parted, eyes fluttering through his dream, but JC covers Chris's hand with his own, glides their fingers over Lance's skin, under his t-shirt where it's rucked up a little in his sleep. "So sweet," JC says, and Chris's whole body tingles, his palm spreading itself across Lance's warm belly, his breath catching on a soft sound, desire, Chris thinks. Soft, and so, so, smooth.

Another soft sound, lower, and Chris swallows hard, because, Lance. His hand stills, fingers halting at the loose waist of Lance's sleep pants, eyes fixed on the slow rise of flannel that Chris knows is Lance's dick. Lance rumbles, almost waking, and JC leans against Chris, pressing them all closer, so Lance's skin is within licking distance now, and JC's dick is pressing hot and hard against Chris's hip, and JC's just murmuring in Lance's ear. Warm breath, and Chris knows how that feels, JC's voice, so sexy.

"Dreamin', baby," Chris hears, thinks he hears, a stream of filthy-sweet suggestions and Lance stretches, his hips pressing up, up, his dick sliding over hot skin, so close Chris can almost feel it pulse. Chris licks his lips, waiting, thinking, wrong, so wrong, he's still half-asleep, and then JC's fingers rake through Chris's hair, across his shoulders, over his ribs, and Chris breathes in the scent of hot boys, salt and cinnamon, the air tastes of them, the three of them, and Chris wants.

Lance's hand drifts into Chris's vision, slipping under soft flannel, fingers wrapping around his dick, slow, slow, and Lance makes another low sound, letting go of his dick to pull at the drawstring of his pants, clumsy, and Chris gentles them away. Lance tenses, and JC murmurs, "S'okay, shhh. Make you feel so good," and Chris feels Lance relax, soft belly and a deep breath and then Chris slides Lance's pajamas down, off. He runs his hands back up Lance's strong legs, golden fuzz like sparks along his skin, all the way up and Lance's dick is just like he left it, thick and pulsing, shiny, right at the tip. Chris licks his lips, looks up to see Lance and JC kissing, slick and wet, a flash of tongue, and then Lance's t-shirt is gone, and Chris thinks JC definitely has his own gravity, like, at least.

JC maybe has his own fucking solar system, universe, something, because when JC purrs, "Chris, do it," Lance's dick jumps, dark and leaking, and Chris licks Lance's belly clean. Hot, teasing strokes and then he's licking just the head, sucking a little, tongue rubbing lower, and oh, yeah, Lance likes that, pretty, pretty noises, his hipbones straining in Chris's palms, so sensitive, right there.

Lance moans, unmuffled, and Chris feels JC sliding down, tugging at his jeans and Chris shifts, feels cool air and JC's hot hands, everywhere at once, and then Chris's shirt is gone, too, and there's bare skin everywhere. So sexy, JC's voice in his ear, the way he mumbles, "Wanna feel your mouth, Chris. Wanna taste him now, and fuck, yeah. Gonna fuck you hard, after, promise." Chris shivers, not sure he heard right, but no, JC's fingers are pressing into his mouth, stroking Lance's dick and Chris's tongue and fuck that's hot. Chris reaches his own hand up to Lance's lips and Lance takes his fingers, sucking hard, and fuck, Lance's mouth is hot, wet and plush, and Chris is almost sorry to pull his fingers away.

"So pretty," JC murmurs again, and Chris swallows, hard, slides his fingers behind Lance's balls, down, slick and hot, and god, so soft. Lance's dick is throbbing, swelling in his throat, and it's all he can do to lick his way off and let JC take his place. Chris's mouth follows his fingers, licking all the way down, silky smooth and tight, so tight, rich and heady under his tongue. Chris feels JC's fingers in his hair, sharp, a warning, and he swirls his tongue and presses in, soft thrusts, tasting Lance's heat until he bucks up, muscles spasming under Chris's lips, around his tongue.

Lance's voice, so deep, the hiss of his name, raspy and drawn out, and god, the feel JC's mouth, shiny and swollen, licking Lance's come across his tongue, drawing him up until their lips find Lance's, sweet and breathless, and oh, dazed is definitely a good look for Lance. Even JC is a little hazy, damp curls and flushed skin and Chris can't stop touching, doesn't know how he's ever going to, and then JC shifts and Chris's dick slides against Lance's ass, hot and open and oh, that's pretty nice, too.

"Fuck me," Lance breathes, and Chris grins against JC's mouth, flipping Lance over and hauling him up on his knees. He runs his fingers the length of Lance's spine, pressing in the hollows, tracing the arc of his shoulder blades. Lance's skin vibrates with need. "Chris, c'mon, fuck me."

JC magics lube from somewhere and Chris thinks they probably don't need it, but whatever, it's all good, JC's slick fingers wrapping around his dick and then sliding back, down, teasing Chris's ass and slurring in Chris's ear, "Fuck, Chris. So hot, man. So pretty," until Chris moans and Lance growls and JC slides two fingers in, twisting, and Chris's palms find Lance's hipbones and he buries himself deep.

Chris sinks his teeth into curve of Lance's neck and tries not to come when JC thrusts in, hard, as promised. No more teasing, no more whispered words, just JC and JC's hips and JC's fucking gravitational pull, fucking into him, fucking him into Lance. And god, Lance is gorgeous like this, sweaty and moaning and grinding back, and Chris is leaving marks all over his body, fingerprints and love bites and JC behind him, mapping his body, leaving a trail of his own. It's too much, and Chris knows he can't hold on much longer.

He reaches for Lance's dick and Lance arches back, so sensitive, gasping, melting into Chris and Chris is tingling all over, gold sparks and blue-green heat and he feels like he's breathing orgasm, like it's everywhere, in the air, spilling over his hand, rolling into his body and streaming through it, and the sound of it, of them, it's beautiful.

Chris is pretty sure he passed out, but it's still blissfully jumbled in his afterglow, muted colors and slow hands, random flashes, JC's wild curls, the taste of Lance's hipbone. Chris stretches a little, smiling at the tangle of legs, the feel of Lance beside him, boneless and breathing deep. JC's fingers are buried in his hair again, and when Chris blinks JC's eyes are open, Lance cradled against his chest. "Hey," Chris says, rubbing his head in JC's hand, "You always had this thing for my hair, C?"

"So pretty, Chris," JC says, brushing a kiss across his Chris's lips. "So perfect, just like this."

"He is," Chris agrees, stroking Lance's arm, deepening JC's kiss, warm and sweet, Lance bound softly in between them. "And so are you."

"You, Chris." JC's eyes crinkle, and Lance sighs, burrowing closer in his sleep. Chris presses his lips to Lance's cheek, soft still, and JC murmurs in his ear, "Beautiful, cat. You make us beautiful."

Chris's pulse races with denial, and with anyone else he'd pull away now, make a joke or something, but this is JC, and he can't. And then JC's kissing him again, and Lance is sleeping in their arms, happy and sated, and Chris thinks maybe they are beautiful. Perfect, just like this.

   
 

\-- End --


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